


Rev That Engine

by camerasparring



Series: Sex House [9]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Car Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Smut, Their car breaks down and they take advantage of an empty road, Top Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23692291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camerasparring/pseuds/camerasparring
Summary: They haven’t seen another car in at least a mile, and something about that both scares and thrills Eddie. After dropping Clara off with Stan and Patty, they decided to take a luxury ride together before joining up with everyone else. Renting a car from the airport was a last minute decision, but neither of them expected flying with a baby to be quite so overwhelming, and when Patty insisted, they were off to explore the open roads together without the screaming they had both endured for several hours. Not to mention the pleading, disgusted looks. Now, with no one around, and the blissful, quiet humming of the motor, Eddie finally feels like he can calm.Then he feels a strange imbalance. He squints over at Richie, who is shifting uncomfortably in his seat.“Fuck, you’re feeling that, too, aren’t you?”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Sex House [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552978
Comments: 30
Kudos: 315





	Rev That Engine

**Author's Note:**

> I heard it was National Horny Day so I spit this out! Haaaaaaa.
> 
> Thank you to Heather, and also to Bendie. This one is for the two of ya. (And also for Laser cause... you know.)

Eddie can feel Richie’s eyes on him for several minutes before he finally opens his mouth.

“I can practically hear you worrying in there.”

Eddie grinds a hand into the muscle balling up in his neck.

“It’s the first time I’ve ever left her, okay?” Eddie says. Richie’s face softens. He reaches over to grab Eddie’s free hand where it’s resting on the console between them.

“I know, Eds, but Stan and Patty know what they’re doing.” 

“Of course they do, but they have _four_ kids-”

“They have three, we all know a fetus ain’t a baby-”

“- and you know what they say about your first kid versus your second, third, fourth-”

“Yeah, those lazy sumbitches, letting those kids run around aimlessly,” Richie says, tapping against the steering wheel, “you know I heard Drew _barely_ made it on time to piano lessons last Tuesday? Lackluster. That child’s going to grow up into an irresponsible, piano-neglecting asshole.” 

“Didn’t you drop out of piano lessons when you snorted milk all over Mrs. Denbrough’s family heirloom?”

Richie balks. “I didn’t _drop out_ , I was _asked not to return_ , there’s a difference, babe.”

Eddie laughs at that. Richie beams over at him. Still impressed he cracks him the fuck up, after all these years, like he hasn’t been a chuckling, heaving mess of a man since they got together. Eddie’s thumb drifts slowly over the back of Richie’s hand as they continue their drive. 

They haven’t seen another car in at least a mile, and something about that both scares and thrills Eddie. After dropping Clara off with Stan and Patty, they decided to take a luxury ride together before joining up with everyone else. Renting a car from the airport was a last minute decision, but neither of them expected flying with a baby to be quite so overwhelming, and when Patty insisted, they were off to explore the open roads together without the screaming they had both endured for several hours. Not to mention the pleading, disgusted looks. Now, with no one around, and the blissful, quiet humming of the motor, Eddie finally feels like he can calm. 

Then he feels a strange imbalance. He squints over at Richie, who is shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Fuck, you’re feeling that, too, aren’t you?” Richie says, and Eddie clenches his eyes shut.

“ _Yes_ , I feel it. How long have you felt it? Were you just gonna ignore it?”

Richie’s mouth stretches in apology. “You need some rest and relaxation, I thought maybe the car could muscle through it!” 

Before Eddie can answer to that dumbassery, the car wobbles unevenly. Eddie knows what that means.

“Pull over now.” He points at the side of the road, dusty and alone, indistinguishable from the miles of dirt in front of them. Richie follows the order. 

Years of Eddie’s young adulthood was spent fixing cars. At the time, the overwhelming fear of being useless propelled him to sign up for an auto class in college, despite all of his mother’s warnings. But he was out of her house: at least while he was in school. And something about getting greased up, and learning how to do something for _himself_ , even if his mother wouldn’t let him actually _have_ a car (“no matter how well you drive, Eddie bear, you can’t trust other drivers on the road!”), fulfilled him in spades. 

Despite changing about a hundred tires in his life, and popping a few in his monstrous SUV he gave up when he moved to LA, he still hopes against hope he’s fucking wrong. 

When he gets out to see rubber pathetically sagging against the withered, dusty pale road, he kind of wants to cry. Or scream. 

No one is around, he could probably get away with-

“Eds, don’t freak out,” Richie says instead, and he sort of wants to laugh.

“This is just so typical, I don’t even know if I can be mad.” Eddie’s already peeling off his jacket in the Atlanta heat, opening the back door to throw it in.

“Sometimes the universe just gives and gives, what can I say?” Richie says nervously, hovering, kicking at rocks.

Eddie ignores him.

“Can you put on the hazards?”

Richie reaches inside and clicks them on while Eddie pops the trunk. Luckily, there’s a thick lump where the spare tire rests under the fabric. He flips it up and starts to haul it out. 

Richie scoffs, holding the door open and kicking his foot out. 

“What, you’re gonna change the tire?” 

Eddie’s lip twitches. “Shut up.” 

Richie grins and looks out at the lonely, dusty road. Rubs a hand through his hair, like he fancies himself a contemplative cowboy, miles from home and nothing but the empty trails to keep him company.

Eddie crouches down next to the busted tire and tucks the front of his shirt into his jeans. It flaps out as soon as he extends his arms. His outfit was already ruined with baby spit, baby _food_ and the disgusting airplane tea Richie insisted on getting despite Eddie’s warnings and then promptly spilled all over the three of them when Clara started getting fussy again. A little grease, dirt and dust isn’t going to make it much worse. In a small way, the thought makes Eddie feel free. Is this how Richie feels all the time? Flying into the unknown world of stains and grime? 

Eddie hates it. But at least he found a pair of thick, black gloves in the backseat. He tries not to think about the stranger that left them there.

He shifts focus to the routine, dredging it up in his mind after years of disuse. It’s been at least… they’ve been married five years, somehow he hasn’t had to change a tire in that whole time? What kind of weird vortex of mechanic luck has he found himself in? 

Wedges, hubcaps, lug nuts, twisting, screwing, his fingers skating over the rubber, flattening his shirt again when it threatens to derail him. After a few times, and a healthy pool of sweat jamming up his back, he gives up and lifts at the hem and tucks it over his neck. His shoulders need protection from the sun, and this gives his neck some reprieve from the heat as well.

Fucking Atlanta. 

Eddie’s sweating profusely after a few minutes, wet and sticky under his arms and the crooks of his knees and where his shirt is bunched up on his neck. Even his abdomen is starting to drip, so he flips the shirt back down for a second to wipe it away. As soon as it’s back he considers the sunburn - he forgot to reapply before the car ride and he’s spent months perfecting his lack of farmer’s tan. He’s far too gay to be _that_ guy at the office. But at least he’d have a good excuse. 

It’s a nice kind of feeling - usefulness. The same thing he feels when he feeds Clara, or finds Richie’s lost keys, or plans a trip to visit their friends and leaves himself built-in time to have an emergency (or for Richie to have a nap) without screwing up the whole itinerary. Work is a droning noise of productivity but it doesn’t give him much satisfaction. At home, he’s part of a team he’s proud to keep together. They’d be lost without him - not that that’s what he wants. _Fuck_. Maybe sitting in his head after a near-panic attack isn’t a good idea after all. 

Eddie looks up, realizing he hasn’t heard diddly-squat from Richie in several minutes, not even when he was jacking the car up and then down (and he expected at _least_ a joke there), only to see him wide-eyed and open-mouthed, staring back down at him. Richie’s hand is fisted in a ball against the hood, and that’s when Eddie’s gears start turning. 

“I’m almost done here,” he says, dragging a messy, bare forearm over his forehead to leave a smear. He can _feel_ it, it’s _disgusting_ , but he’s pretty sure he’s had some form of poop on him for the last three months, so he swallows down the rising anxiety and tightens the lug nuts again. 

“How did you, uh,” Richie chokes out, and Eddie feels his eyes, heavy and prodding, but Eddie grabs the hubcap and ignores him, “how did you learn how to change a tire?”

“Oh, what, you think you know everything about me?” Eddie snaps back, feeling irritated and, honestly, a little turned on. Capable. Sexy. God, he loves when Richie makes him feel sexy. 

Richie jerks back with a curved smile. “I would never be so arrogant as to think I’ve got you pegged, Kaspbrak.” 

“Kaspbrak-Tozier, _dear_ ,” Eddie corrects him. 

“Don’t play dumb,” Richie says back, crouching down to watch as Eddie finishes up, “you know exactly what you’re fucking doing to me right now.” 

Eddie bites back the laugh. “Do I?” 

Richie grunts. Eddie shakes an errant strand of greased hair out of his face. 

Luckily, he’s mostly done with getting the spare tire on. They’re going to have to drive slow as balls the rest of the way back to Stan and Patty’s, and then deal with finding a mechanic around there, although Eddie assumes Patty probably has one on file - she is, after all, his most organized friend, but any further planning rushes out of his head when Richie lunges forward to slot their mouths together. 

“F-” Eddie gets out, then Richie’s hands are clinging at his hips, shoving down the back of his pants, running hot and fevered over his dirty forearms ( _knew it_ ), and eventually, lifting him up to a stand. Eddie drops the pressure gauge into the dirt and lets Richie manhandle him, wet and dirty, panting nonsense against his tongue. 

As soon as Eddie’s pressed up against the car, Richie whirls him around instead, pasting himself all along Eddie’s back and pushing at his spine to bend him over.

“What the fuck,” Eddie gasps right into the sheeny metal. His hands burst hard with sweat, and usually he hates the feeling of sweating into gloves, sweating into his _clothes_ , but Richie is rutting into the crack of his ass, and suddenly the thick, grimy feel of damp isn’t so bad. It’s actually kind of… hot. 

“I can’t- I know you’re gonna hate this, Eds, I just- holy fuck,” Richie mumbles behind him, reaching a hand down the back of Eddie’s pants to thumb at Eddie’s hole. Eddie moans, long and loud as Richie presses into him. 

“Your hands- get the, get the thing-”

“Oh shit, yeah,” Richie says, pulling away and throwing himself into the car to pop the glove compartment. 

“It’s in the front pocket,” Eddie tells him as he unzips the fanny pack they threw in there as soon as they arrived. If someone had told Eddie this morning they’d be using it to fuck over a car, he’d… well, he’d definitely believe them. He’s had a long, stressful day. 

All he wants is a dick in him. Richie’s dick. For, like, ever. Preferably. 

“I’m so fucking keyed up I feel like I’m gonna come just looking at you,” Richie says, spreading hand sanitizer over his fingers, digging his nails into his palm, and Eddie grumbles in his throat. 

“You too,” he sighs. His hands feel slippery with sweat over the hood. He’s not really sure why he’s still bent over it, he’s going to kill his back, but he just really fucking _wants_ it. 

His dick is already aching with the position, ass up, hard, unrelenting metal underneath him while he waits for Richie to clean off his hands, slick up and enter him. The furl of his hole flutters with the thought. With the ghost of the feeling, and he whines. 

Richie shoots out of the car and sidles up behind him. 

“Babe, turn around,” he says quietly into his ear. After a moment’s thought, Eddie scans the surroundings again: absolutely no one. Not the rush of a single car since they pulled over. He turns around, undoes his pants, shoves them off awkwardly over his shoes and into the passenger’s seat, and hops up onto the hood. 

As Eddie spreads his legs, Richie’s eyes darken, his fingers vibrating in anticipation. Eddie almost wraps a hand around himself until he remembers where they’ve been. Guess this one’s all on Richie. 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Eddie heaves out as Richie’s thick digit circles his hole. Eddie pulls him in close, wrapping his arms around and pressing them together - he wants to feel him. Wants to feel every inch inside him, every touch, every kiss. He wants to take his time, even though this is the worst place to do it. 

“Shoulda thought of that before you went abs-out and saved the fuckin’ day.” 

“It’s _hot_ ,” Eddie gasps, inching forward to suck Richie in further.

“Hell yeah, it is.”

“I’m sweating like a-”

“ _Fuck_.” Richie pounds his forehead to Eddie’s shoulder, licking at the salt-slick dew, biting at the knob of the bone until Eddie cries out. Richie’s big hand is on his hip, urging him on, and he wants Richie’s dick so bad he’s willing to deal with whatever the fuck the metal is currently doing to the skin on his bare ass. 

“You like me all dirty?” 

Richie nods against him, adding a finger. 

“Fuck, _fuck_.” Eddie rolls his hips up. “You gonna fuck me out here?” 

“Nnngh, Eds, fuck yeah.” 

Richie’s starting to sweat, too, or maybe he always was, so Eddie reaches up to spread it over the top of his lip. Eddie’s hands are filthy, but Richie sucks his thumb into his mouth, against the pad of his tongue, and Eddie’s wet, eager cock bounces between them. 

“You want a suck and fuck?” Richie asks, eyeing Eddie’s dick where it’s begging to be touched. But Eddie shakes his head, feeling the burn of the stretch with two fingers, but far too impatient to wait any longer. He throws his hips into it for a few more pumps and then pushes at Richie’s shoulders so he’ll shift back. 

“No, god, the car is going to burn my ass.” He jumps back down onto his feet, facing the car, and grinds his gaping ass onto Richie’s fully clothed dick. It feels so _good_ , even in his pants. God, he can’t wait. He can’t fucking wait. “Unzip and get in me.” 

Richie shakes out a laugh and takes a few million seconds longer than Eddie wants, but soon the thick, blunt head of his cock is edging at Eddie’s hole. Eddie braces his hands on the hood and tries to push back. 

Richie’s hands hold tight at his hips. He moves in slow. It whites out Eddie’s vision until he knows nothing but the maddening stretch and gasping pants Richie’s breathing into his neck and the heat beating down on his spread fingers. His fucking shirt is still looped up over his head, so Richie wraps an arm around to hold him and grinds deep once he makes contact with Eddie’s abdomen, sweaty and fevered. Once he’s bottomed out, he just stays. 

Eddie wonders if he’s hallucinating this whole thing. 

Surely he, Eddie Kaspbrak-Tozier, is not splitting open on his husband’s dick, against a dirty rental car, hands and arms and stomach covered in dust and grime, out in the open of bum-fuck Georgia where anyone could see them. Anyone could drive down this road, take a walk from their abandoned barn to see him bouncing on it, begging for it, falling apart because it’s not nearly enough, it will never be enough. 

“I love your cock,” Eddie breathes, feeling more worked up than he has in awhile. Richie huffs. 

“I know.” 

“Love how it feels in me.” 

“Yeah, baby,” Richie soothes. Eddie squirms on it. 

“Go harder.” 

“I’m taking my time,” Richie grunts, slowly sliding out, “giving you what you need.” 

Eddie shivers at the hard edge of his voice. At the hard, pulsing line of his cock inside. 

“I need it,” Eddie repeats, “I fucking need it so bad.” 

“Take it.”

“Give it to me, then, Richie,” Eddie says, leaning forward to splay out on the hood. He’ll miss Richie tonguing his neck but the angle is so much sharper this way. 

“You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?” 

Eddie blinks the sweat out of his eyes. The heat of Richie’s cock drives in a little harder, rocking him against the car. 

“Yeah, _shit_ , yes, I-”

“What’d you take some sort of auto class? Little blue jumper uniform? Thinkin’ about some ripped hunk railing you over the side of an old Chevy?” 

A desperate laugh claws out of Eddie’s throat. “More like a tall bespectacled nerd with a soft belly.” 

Richie snaps his hips. “Fuckin’ liar.” 

Eddie lets himself float on it, laugh, catch his breath. 

“It’s hard to, _unf_ , it’s hard to remember what I wanted back then,” Eddie tells him, tears pressing at the rims of his eyelids. He's set on pretending that’s from the amazing dick in his ass, taking him apart, and not from yet another moment of realizing Richie has opened up his entire world. 

“Didn’t have me yet,” Richie says anyway, and Eddie sobs with it. It feels so fucking good, he almost doesn’t hear the roar of a car in the distance. 

“Oh goddamn it.” 

“Keep going,” Eddie hisses. He’s spinning with pleasure, grinding back so Richie doesn’t stop. 

“Oh my god, well, lemme- wait.” Richie shifts them both sideways, and Eddie gasps when he feels them moving, then realizes Richie is opening the passenger door to block the view of his bare ass, hanging out for all to see. 

Sure enough, a red station wagon (do they even make those anymore?) comes puttering along the quiet road toward them. 

Eddie forces out a groan as they get closer, and at the last minute, flips his shirt back to normal. Chances are it’s already a lost cause. Richie’s twitching deep in his hole, dragging mighty close to Eddie’s prostate, so all he really needs to do is hope they drive on past and mind their business. 

They slow to a stop instead, parallel to Eddie and Richie’s parked car on the road. When their window rolls down, Eddie can see a middle-aged couple, a pair of concerned eyes and smiles, and some sort of floral pattern. His dick is leaking between his legs, so that’s as specific as he’s able to be. 

“What seems to be the problem, boys?” A man asks, the driver, in a sweet, Southern accent. Richie giggles into the nape of Eddie’s neck, so Eddie reaches back to pinch him on the meat of his thigh. He yelps, but it only forces him in deeper. Eddie jerks. 

“Oh, no problem here, sir,” Richie calls out. Eddie gulps a nod, suddenly struck speechless. Richie thrusts forward. 

“Are- are you sure?” the woman asks. Eddie snaps his nod harder. “You look like you blew a tire.” 

“It’s f-fine, it’s fine, thank you, I was able to change it and our friends should be here any minute,” Eddie lies, but he really needs them to fucking _go away_. 

“Yeah, I’m just passing the time by teaching this one correct posture,” Richie says, pulling Eddie closer. Eddie’s whole face flushes. God, he’s so stupid. Eddie wants him so badly. 

He needs Richie to fuck him for another hour, slow and steady, like they used to be able to do any ol’ time they wanted. He misses extra time, leisurely Saturdays, moments without worry. Now they’re smack dab in the middle of another moment, but this is striking him a little different.

Different in that Richie is having an active conversation while still inside him. And it’s pretty thrilling. They could get caught at any moment; in fact, they _are_ caught. 

Eddie shifts his hips back and breathes out a moan, just loud enough that Richie can hear it. 

The woman in the car squints at him. “Good luck, then, dears.” It’s skeptical, but Eddie hardly gives a shit. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” Richie says back. 

As soon as they’re fully out of sight, Eddie feels the press of Richie’s forehead to his back, through his sweat-stung shirt. All the tools from the tire switch are still out - that’s probably why the couple stopped. Always clean up after yourself, Kaspbrak. Especially if you’re planning on having secret sex right afterwards. 

“Am I losing it or was that really hot?” Richie asks.

“It wasn’t… not.”

“I fucking _knew_ it,” Richie says, then starts snapping his hips in earnest: pulling out completely before slamming back inside, and Eddie knows he’s going to come soon. “I knew you wanted someone to see.” 

“What? See how good I have it?” 

“ _Eddie_ ,” Richie groans. The slap of their skin grows louder in the absence of the station wagon. 

“You think I wanna get caught?” 

“Fuck yeah you do,” Richie tells him, and he’s not wrong. Maybe Eddie does want to get caught, pants around his ankles. Being fucked against a tree, against a car, in the back room at a party. He may be an old married man, but he still likes to mix it up. And Richie’s usually willing to go along with the ride, which is a whole ‘nother level of exciting. Richie’s up for most anything, as long as it includes Eddie. 

“Want someone to see how good you treat me.”

“Yeah-”

“See how hard you give it to me, _oh_ , how good you pound me with that cock, baby.”

Richie stutters. Eddie hears a filthy squelch of him adding more lube, probably the last of what’s left in the packet. Those things aren’t big and Richie likes it wet. 

“Eddie, I’m close.” Richie pushes back in hard, setting a brutal pace, and Eddie is ready. He’s ready to come against the car, blow his load and let Richie see how fucking _good_ he is. He’s so fucking good. 

“Yeah, show me how good you are.” Eddie means it to sound more like goading, more like the threat of being caught, but Richie whines as he sucks a spot onto Eddie’s neck.

“Eddie, I wanna be so, _fuck_ , _shit_ , wanna be good.”

“Do it, come in me,” Eddie demands, wanting to feel it. 

“Yeah, gonna, oh, gonna fuckin’, hold, wait, hold-”

Eddie can’t help but laugh as Richie unloads inside, rumbling out deep from his chest and out into the swirling, empty beyond. Eddie’s close behind, jerking himself desperately in the last few seconds, even though he’s already there. The feel of Richie coming deep inside of him always sets him off. The clench is involuntary and it sends a shockwave through them both until Eddie is flinching from overstimulation. 

“I don’t- I don’t want you to pull out but you might have to,” Eddie says regretfully.

“I think I might have to,” Richie says, breathless, “we have a child to get back to and everything.” 

“Eh,” Eddie hedges, laying across the car to let Richie pull out, “I think she’ll be fine as the fifth Uris child.” 

“Ah, already admitting defeat, I see.”

“Don’t fucking tell Stan I said that, I’m fucking dick stupid, you know that,” Eddie says, whipping his head around to catch the curl of Richie’s smug smile. He’s always so proud of himself when he makes Eddie come, no matter how many times he’s done it. Like it’s some sort of miracle and not something he’s been able to achieve roughly once a day for the past seven years. 

“Staniel will be vindicated in his fatherhood.”

“No,” Eddie shoots back, turning around gently to help Richie do up his pants, “I’ve already picked out all your ‘Number One Dad’ memorabilia, that title is _yours_.” 

Richie grins down at him, all flush face and dopey eyes. Eddie presses up to kiss him. 

“You gonna let me drive back?” Eddie asks. 

“You bet,” Richie tells him, mischievous and fucked out, like he pulled a real one over on the whole world, and hey, maybe he did, “rev that fuckin’ engine, baby. You earned it.” 

When they finally head out, Eddie throttles the pedal and streaks big, puffy lines of dust down the dirt road, his heart beating steadily in his chest. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, leave a comment if you can!
> 
> As always, find me on Tumblr at [tinyangryeddie](https://tinyangryeddie.tumblr.com/) or Twitter, where I'm [camerasparring](https://twitter.com/camerasparring)!


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